Happy with her purchases, she headed out of the door, feeling a bit more lightheaded than was comfortable. A rude awakening came quickly as she understood the subtlety of the slight downgrade in the route she’d taken to get to the store. It was an uphill struggle with the shopping cart to get back to the cottage. Never one to question those who believed in physical fitness, she now questioned herself for a lack of the basic strength to push a grocery cart uphill. If the ride on the carousel was bad, this small little trip down exercise row had winded her to the point of exhaustion by the time she reached the cottage’s front porch. The energy left her as she lay back on the porch with the groceries still in the cart, her knees clamped together in an effort to hold back the massive amount of pee in her bladder. This was it. Headline news would read, Pissy woman found dead on front porch of cute blue rental cottage on Dodge Lane. Her heart exploded from pushing two bags of groceries in a cart uphill. If only she had the oxygen in her lungs to get up. The food would have to wait. She didn’t have the strength to lift the bags out to carry them inside.
Splayed out like she’d had a heart attack, several people stopped to make sure she was alive. One gentleman, a Dr. Chadwick Winter, even went as far as checking her pulse. Wide eyes looked at him with a pissed off expression, which only elicited a warm smile from the attractive, clean cut, black man.
“I’m a doctor Madam,” he offered as he touched her wrist. “The altitude is pretty high up here, and you will need to take it slow the first two weeks to become acclimated.” Dr. Winter took the keys from her hand, opened her front door, and took her groceries inside. Coming back, he helped her up off the porch as she flopped down on the couch like a torn rag doll, watching the stranger put away her groceries, as if he lived in the house.
“You can put these where you want them after you catch your breath,” he said, passing her a bottle of water. “I will take the shopping cart back to Ma Hildie’s. Here, drink some water.”
She accepted the bottle, but was unable to open it due to her strength being a permanent resident on that last bit of incline. Hopefully, later today, it would catch up with her only to find her still sitting on the couch. Julie felt like an idiot for studying all the notes on the town, but failing to factor in the high altitude. The air was thin, and she hadn’t factored in that portion either.
“If you are going to be in town for a while, it would really help for you to get out each day, and walk a little to build up your endurance. After a month or so, use the bike on the front porch to get around town, so you may get stronger and used to the thin air up here,” Dr. Winter told her.
He handed her a business card, smudged with frosting. Embarrassed, he took it back replacing it with a clean card.
“Sorry about that. I have a major sweet tooth and spend way too much time at The Cupcakery. You should head there tomorrow. On Tuesdays, the owner bakes red velvet and key lime cupcakes. My favorite is the banana pudding. They have real pudding in the middle,” he offered with a smile.
Returning her keys, he waved in farewell, and left Julie alone on the couch with her thoughts. Her limp hands fumbled with the business card as her eyes tried to focus on the words. Try as she might to zoom in on the small print, her vision blurred, her lungs constricted, and she swore Tweety flew by her right ear.
“Just flipping great,” she said, leaning over on the couch in defeat.
Her rescuer had been a pediatrician. Tomorrow, she would follow the doctor’s order and visit The Cupcakery to try out the local flavor. One thing was certain, until she acclimated as he so fervently recommended, Julie would be driving her vehicle.
Chapter 2 – Winter & Intervals of Love
The couch was evil incarnate as far as Julie was concerned. It held her hostage for the remainder of the day. And when the night rolled in and the moon rose high, peeking through the ugly curtains hanging precariously at the windows, she felt violated by its intrusion. She’d been in Endurance for less than twelve hours and already three people knew she had no stamina and could not breathe in the thin mountain air. The nosey moon who constantly peeped into the living room window, the clerk at Ma Hildie’s, who didn’t see her return the cart, and of course, the handsome pediatrician Dr. Chadwick Winter. Well, it would be four people if you counted Couchie, her new best friend.
Since she’d spent so much time with the couch in such a short period of time, Julie felt it needed a name. Normally, she didn’t sleep with anyone on a first date, but Couchie was her new lover, and best friend. In her hours of need, he’d cradled her in his embrace, soothed her wounded pride, and comforted her lungs. The organs likely swore she’d taken up a nasty habit of inhaling shallow breaths, incapable of sustaining oxygen to her brain. A brain which felt addled this morning and in dire need of coffee.
Groaning as her muscles protested a night of unencumbered romance with Couchie, she tried to stand, but her legs resembled wet noodles after dropping in a pot of hot water. Slowly rubbing her stiff back, she made it to the small kitchen pantry, locating the bag of coffee she’d purchased. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten to buy coffee filters.
“Great,” she mumbled, looking for an alternative to filter the grounds. The only thing she had was a paper towel. “This will work too.”
Ripping off a smaller version of the multi-sized sheets, she folded it with care into the hopper. Locating a spoon, she ladled in two heaping teaspoons full, adding the small bottle of water to the reservoir, and pressing the little orange button to start the drip of morning refreshment. The light didn’t come on.
She pressed it again.
Still no light.
She stared at the pot with utter contempt, angered at its refusal to be her friend. Five minutes passed and there was no steamy hiss, no steady drip, and no water flowing through the pot. She wanted to scream. This was too much. Rifling through the cabinets, she hoped and prayed that there was at least an old-fashion percolator under the cabinets, but to no avail.
“This is unacceptable,” she grumbled, searching for her keys. Without checking her appearance, she headed out the front door with the local map in search of coffee. To her amazement, and the blessings from the coffee fairy, she located High Altitudes Coffee House less, than three blocks from her little rental.
Unable to form a coherent sentence, she entered the coffee shop and slapped a twenty on the counter with a growl. The vibrant young lady behind the counter stared at her for a minute, and then smiled a knowing grin.
“One grande coffee, regular, coming up,” she said with Julie watching her suspiciously. She poured the hot java into a disposable cup. “I left the lid off with room for cream, which is right over there,” she pointed.
Julie followed the direction of the finger, growling and moving like a zombie to the stand. Adding two sugars and a dollop of cream, she stirred, sipped, spooned in more sugar, stirred again, and drank. Blinking several times, she began to notice people watching her in amusement. To her absolute horror, the man from the plane who’d rescued her from the overzealous carousel also sat by the window enjoying the Julie Gets Coffee Show.
Julie raised a hand, waving at him. He waved back. Even with her thin air deprived lungs and fuzzy brain, that man was still covered in sexy.
Oh shit. He’s getting up. He’s coming towards me. Try to smile.
Her smile looked as if she’d just stolen peaches off his favorite tree, and broken off a limb. He wasn’t looking at her face but almost over her head. Julie turned to see if someone stood behind her.
No one was there.
“Rough night?” big sexy man asked.
“No, bad morning,” she replied, looking up at him, “the coffee pot in my rental is broken.”
“It would appear your hairbrush is as well,” he said, placing a massive paw on top of her head.
“Huh?” she said, moving over to the glass to study her reflection. Hair stuck straight up from her head as if she’d walked through an electromagnetic current. “Oh, dear Jesus!”
/> The man laughed a throaty chuckle that reverberated in his chest. Julie was mortified twice. First, the conveyor belt now this. Her hair stood up on her head in the center of her scalp, and one side was mushed to her head. The lipstick she wore yesterday had not come off during the night, but was smeared across her mouth as if she’d been molested by Couchie’s best pal, Mr. Pillow.
“My name is Abel,” he said. “Abel Burney.”
“Julie Kraztner, Sports Complicated Magazine,” she said, looking down at the hand he offered in introduction.
“Ms. Kratzner, where is the rental that you are residing in during your stay?” He asked.
“A few blocks over,” she told him, sipping the coffee, trying to clear her brain. “The little blue cottage on Dodger Lane.”
“I know it well,” he said, offering her a napkin. “I tell you what I am going to do. Please allow me to treat you to breakfast at Della’s Diner, then we will see about getting you a coffee pot.”
“Go ahead and admit it,” she mumbled, “you think I’m pathetic.”
“No, I think you’re adorable,” he said with a smile.
She knew that kind of smile. It was the type of warmness a man gave when attempting to assess the level of crazy on a woman. Based on what her brother Eric had told her, men would venture as far as an eight on the crazy scale with a woman if the sex was bananas. A nine on the crazy chick scale could easily be a drawn out into a three-night stand, but a ten meant run.
“Good. This adorable lady needs some food,” she said to him.
“In normal circumstances, I would suggest we walk, but you appear to be incapable of making complex decisions this morning,” he said.
“The altitude is messing with me, Mr. Burney, but I drove myself over here,” she said looking at him with interest. “I can drive myself to the diner.”
“Great, meet you there in a few,” he said, mushing her hair down.
“Cupcake,” she said to him. “I have eggs and bacon at the house. I want a cupcake or a bagel, not breakfast.”
He pointed down the street towards the center of town. “The Cupcakery is right over there next to town hall. Considering you are in house slippers, are you up for the walk?”
Julie looked at her feet, and then realized, at some point during the night, she’d put on her pajamas. She was in public, in her pajamas, in pink bunny house shoes, with no bra, and her hair stood up all over her head. At least, she’d put on a jacket and the coffee was good.
“Mr. Burney, twice you have seen me in less than optimal conditions. If you would be so kind, I need to go home first and get dressed,” she said with a blank look on her face.
“I tell you what Julie Kratzner... I’m going to drive you, wait while you get yourself together, and treat you to one of the best cupcakes in town,” he said, gripping her elbow. She shuffled towards the door, looking forward to getting out of the small shop.
“Hey lady, your change,” the girl behind the counter called out.
“Start a tab,” Julie said. “I’ll be back.”
ABEL WITNESSED JULIE pull up in the little blue car, parking haphazardly and taking up two parking spaces. It took everything in him not to laugh when she stepped out of the car, her hair sticking up in every direction, with the pink bunny slippers on her feet. She was in dire need of a cup of coffee, and quite possibly a babysitter. He remembered her from the plane as well, allowing him to hold her hand during the turbulence. He thought he’d repaid the favor in full when he rescued her from the luggage carousel, when her handful of bottom was tooted up in the air as she rode around on top of the luggage. She was, in fact, adorable as she sat in his passenger seat, losing the battle with the seat belt. In frustration, she growled when she was unable to get it to connect after several attempts. Abel reached over, grabbed the strap, and clicked the safety device into the holder.
“Shut up,” she said in laughter at her own ridiculousness. “These past two days have been horrific. I am all out of sorts.”
“Not judging, just enjoying the show,” he said, putting the car into gear. He drove the three blocks to the little blue cottage. Parking in the drive, he asked her for the keys to the front door.
Julie looked at him with large, doe-like eyes, as she said softly, “I left them in my car.”
Abel started to laugh as he backed out the driveway, turned his vehicle, and headed back to the coffee shop. He didn’t make a sound as he parked, got out of his car, walked around the back end of the automobile, and retrieved her keys from the ignition. Luckily, the majority of the crowds had not come to town yet, or someone would have had the pleasure of joyriding in her car. He held onto the keys as he drove them to the blue cottage, parking in the drive for the second time. Reaching across the console, he unfastened her seat belt and pulled the latch to open the car door for her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“No worries,” he replied, “I’ll wait for you while you shower and dress.”
As far as Julie was concerned, her interactions with Abel Burney couldn’t get any worse than the two she’d already had with the man. He opened the door to find her suitcase in the middle of the floor with her clothing strewn all over the hardwood. A pair of underwear dangled haphazardly on the lamp, with the crotch facing upwards.
“I’m not even going to ask,” he said, looking about. He picked up the suitcase, clamped all the loose clothing inside, picked the panties off the lamp, and carried it to the bedroom. Sitting the luggage on the bed, he looked at Julie closely. Adorable was the perfect word for her. She was nearly five seven, but her head only reached his chin. Soft, ebony skin, big brown expressive eyes, and curly black hair, which sorely needed a brush. He felt an unfamiliar attraction to her, unlike any he’d experienced in the last few years. Maybe, I’ve been single too long because this woman is a heated mess, but I’m drawn to her.
“Good, because I don’t have an answer,” she told him kicking off the pink bunny slippers. “I won’t be long.”
“I’ll wait in the other room,” he told her. Abel closed the bedroom door. Heading to the kitchen, he checked the fridge. She did have bacon and eggs, so he decided to cook them a quick breakfast. Curiosity made him check the coffee pot, and it was indeed broken. He left the uncooked eggs and bacon on the counter. Grabbing her keys, he made a quick run to the local store, where he purchased a new coffee pot and filters.
When he returned, Julie was still in the shower, so he started the coffee. Abel sizzled bacon, scrambled eggs, and made a few slices of toast by the time she came out of the bedroom dressed. She was visibly shocked when he poured her the second cup of hot coffee to get her morning going. By Abel’s assessment, the lady needed at least two to make her a functional member of society.
“If you are telling me that you got the pot to work, I am packing my things and leaving right now,” she said, accepting the mug.
“No,” he said, pulling out the chair. “You took so long to get showered and dressed, that I went and bought you a coffee pot and made breakfast.”
“Normally, I don’t give two toots from a cow’s arse what people think of me, but you for some odd reason matter,” she said.
“Are you telling me Julie that I matter to you?” he asked with one eyebrow arched.
“You don’t matter more than this coffee and food if that’s what you are asking,” she said.
“Fair enough. Eat up and we’ll go and get you a cupcake,” he said like a father would to his child. There was a twinkle in his eye when he said the words in a non-fatherly tone, as if implying good behavior meant she would receive more treats. The oddest sensation came over her. She didn’t want Abel Burney to think of her as a child; contrary to everything he’d seen about her thus far.
She was intrigued by this man, and cared about what he thought of her.
THE CUPCAKERY WAS A delightful shop full of pastel colors. Equally vibrant sweet treats lined up like delectable soldiers in the display case, vying for customers to snap to attent
ion and salute the chef’s efforts. To Abel, it reminded him of the animal shelter with all the animals crying out to be taken home and cared for by a loving owner. Julie decided not to let them down. Three red velvet, two key lime, and the banana pudding cupcakes were hers to love. The banana pudding, she wanted to eat on the spot, taking a table by the window with her new friend Abel.
Another friend walked through the door. Dr. Winter entered with an expression of determination on his face, marched up to the counter, and ordered the banana pudding cupcake, chatting away with the shop owner. The woman listened intently, but only provided two word answers.
“He’s trying too hard,” Julie said to Abel. “The woman is obviously not interested and only being polite.”
“You’re wrong,” Abel said, biting into a Snickerdoodle, “look at her body language.”
Abel was right. The shopkeeper’s body language was different. It conveyed to the good doctor that she was indeed interested. Fingers lingered in his palm when she returned his change; as if they shared a secret tryst the night before and no one knew but the two of them. She touched her hair several times after removing the gloves she wore to bag up or box up sweet treats, but she wasn’t talking back to him.
“She’s not returning the conversation,” Julie said, watching them closely, “only two-word responses.”
“Sherron, that’s her name. She has a speech impediment,” Abel said. “The doc knows this which is why he phrases his comments so that she can answer in her own way.”
“Are they in a relationship?”
“No,” Abel said. “However, she is a catch.”
“How? She’s dressed like one of the Who’s from Whoville. He’s in tailored black clothing, which is a complete opposite of her. They have nothing in common, and I don’t believe that opposites attract that much,” she whispered to Abel.
“Maybe,” he said.
“I take it you disagree with me,” she said.
A Walk Through Endurance Page 2
